A simple story in the 41st millenium
by BIBOTOT
Summary: Failing to convince his Captain of the Greenskin threat, Sergeant Ragnar of the Dark Angel must assemble the most ridiculous army ever to counteract. Warhammer and children story style. Hope you enjoy. Please review. One shot.


As the green tide encroached the fortress of Masoche, the Dark Angels prepared to repel them with everything they'd got. And by everything, they meant everything. Sergeant Ragnar of the 5th Company sighed in dismay.

One was an old man in his 110s, so old he had to turn his ear-plug into maximum volume in order to hear clearly. Let's call him old man.

One was a man with a belly that Ragnar could swear he could put an Ork into it and it wouldn't burst. Let's call him fat man.

One was a surgical obsessed whose half body was replace with augmented parts. Ragnar particularly focused on the twisted curved feature of his mechanical right hand. Let's call him Capt. Hook.

One was a man whose face was entirely covered in pimple, giving him the appearance of a victim from the Plague of Unbelief. Let's call him pimple man.

One was a hip-hop dancer (at least Ragnar assumed it was hip-hop and not ways of communication amongst the Kroot) with speech full of nonsense. Let's call him hip-hop dude.

One was a girl, 9 or 10 by the look of it, carrying a teddy bear. She seemed pretty close to the old man, her grandfather, or great-grandfather, or even great-great-grandfather. Let's call her little girl.

The last was more decent than the rest, a PDF with a las-gun slung on his back and a couple of grenades on a belt around his waist. Let's call him PDF man. Ragnar had a spark of hope as soon as he saw him.

"Is that all?" Ragnar inquired his comrade, Battle-Brother Markus.

"Best I can find," Markus replied. The Sergeant sighed again. The Orks had been assailing the fortress of Masoche for two weeks now, they corpse heaping up under the unshakable wall. Impulsively, the Dark Angel had declared the province cleansed of the Xenos taint and threw a party at the center of the city, not knowing that the Orks would not stop until either of them were fully exterminated. Earlier, after dropping his mother's lucky coin into the sewer and came to fetch it, Ragnar himself saw at least a dozen of them infesting the place. When he came up to report, the stubborn captain wouldn't listen to him. Desperately, Ragnar ordered his most trusted (and shabby) Battle-Brother to call for additional help. This was nothing he had anticipated.

"So, where's the shooting?" asked the PDF man enthusiastically. Although he wasn't referring the Astartes by sir, Ragnar was a little relieved seeing him hear.

"Don't worry," he assured. "You'll be able to put some las-round into alien hides, soon."

The PDF man frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about? We're here to do a movie, right? You're the director and he's the cameraman, heh? By the way, do I get extra?"

The man's words tore Ragnar's mind apart. His last hop was gone, popped like a water bubble. "NOOOOOOOOOO!"

The explanation that followed cost them thirty-three minutes and eighteen bottles of bear. Markus had eight of them while Ragnar accounted for another four. The barman was too awestruck by the sight of Space Marine he didn't bother nobody was paying for his precious liquid. Ragnar got on well enough with Markus to know that his battle-brother hit the bar every time he was deployed on a world and indulge himself with some free drinks. Although it was absolutely within their right, no living human with a sky on his head and the earth beneath his feet would even think about charging the Emperor's Angels of Death.

After the while, the whole concept was comprehended. Well, more or less.

"Can you explain again?" asked the old man. "I forgot to turn on my amplifier."

"Sucks to be you," Ragnar replied callously.

"If the Orks are really here," said the pimple man. "Shouldn't we alert the authority? I mean, shouldn't we report this to the Chapter?"

"We can't, not at this point. If you're wondering why then I'll tell you that the 5th Company is lead by a pig-headed bastard."

"Kijori foald Medasjoi," said the hip-hop dude. "Legolf herfarad."

"Don't worry. As soon as you can kill some Orks, or at least give them enough annoyance while we are trying to do so, it'll be fine."

"So we're fighting the Greenskins and not the forces of Chaos?" asked the fat man.

"YEEEEEEEEEES!"

"Do I still get paid for this?" asked the PDF man.

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

"Is there a part in the Ork's skull that will detonate when you shoot at it?" asked Capt. Hook.

"I think its better that you find that out yourself."

"What are the Orks?" asked the little girl, which was the obvious question for someone at her age. Ragnar went through the basic, trying not to overload her. He was successful in the end, perhaps a bit too successful. The girl might have got a bright future amongst the Adeptus Sororitas.

Everyone in the city of Masoche hated the Orks just as farmers loathed vermin, for they had done do much with the fortress wall with a wild collection of burn marks, bullet holes and, of course, red juicy viscera. Cleaning all of it up would be a grinder of money, paint, time and a lot of brushes. The time had come for its people to rise up against the Xenos filth. The group watched with a mixture of anxiety and excitement as the two Space Marine pulled in crater. Today, some of them would fire in anger for the first time in their life.

Although a Tactical Marines generally fight in range, Ragnar favored melee combat and grabbed himself a chainsword. Meanwhile, as a Devastator, Space Marine specialized in using heavy weapons, Markus took the heavy bolter. And as if that wasn't enough, he put a flamer on his back and another two bolt pistols. Ragnar was feeling sorry for the Orks right now. Each of the militias was only issued with a pistol bolter and two magazines due to the fact the other Astartes-class weapons were just too big for them to carry. Other items which were brought included grenades, flashlights, medic kids, fake teeth and adult diapers, just in case somebody wet him of herself in an Emperor-damned situation.

Without further discussion, the eight men and one little girl made for the sewer. The streets they darted through were empty. All the fortress inhabitants were at the ceremony now.

The Orks were still there, waiting. A dozen or so were idling near the entrance.

"Oh, Holy Throne. There really are Orks in the sewer," said the fat man.

"I told you," replied Ragnar, almost happy to see people believing his story at last.

"So, what's the plan, brother?" asked Markus. The Orks were undoubtedly well-armed with at least two Flash Gitz.

Ragnar was taken back. How could he have forgotten about the whole thing? "Well…, I was going to invite Sergeant Galon to come with us, but uhm… I couldn't find him anywhere so…."

"So we're going blind, heh ?" said Markus nonchalantly. "Hate to say this but if you don't come up with anything any time soon, we're going to get our ass kicked big time out there."

The Sergeant felt silent, but someone else didn't.

"Hey, I think I've got something here," the old man suddenly said. His voice was so clear and contralto Ragnar knew it was coming from a radio box under his neck. "A plan."

"Alright, shoot. I'm all ears," replied Markus.

"OK. Look at those pipes, they contain gas. Very volatile. And the Orks are standing right next to it."

"Good idea," said Ragnar. "Couldn't think of anything better myself."

"Let's get to it, men," said the one eyed man.

"On my count to three…," said Ragnar steadily.

"One…". There was the sound of weapons being double checked and prayers being moaned.

"Two…". Ragnar's fingers went tingling out of control, as if they were going to turn on him if he didn't pull the trigger now.

_**Let's hope this work.**_

"THREE! FOR THE EMPEROR!" The group sprang into action with ferocity. Markus was the first to open fire, aiming at the pipes the old man had spoken of. The explosion was all but satisfying and a fire-ball erupted, swathing the Orks with is baneful embracement. In the confined space of the sewer, its strength was doubled, if not tripled. Two Orks including one Flash Git went down to the blast. One with a burna was caught ablaze as its weapon cooked up. The others were dazed, burned of stunned by the secondary effect.

"What da heck waz dat ?"

"Da Space Boyz iz here already?"

"What do we do now?"

Without warning, Ragnar leaped out from the smoke and engaged in melee combat while Markus was off-loading his heavy weapon on the green-skinned aliens. The others also started firing. The Orks soon scattered, retreating back deeper into the sewer, but not all of them made it. Eight bodies were left behind. Two was cut down by Ragnar while Markus took out another two. The last death was cause by a pistol bolt, unmistakably. One of the militias had done it. The second Flash Gitz was also dead.

"We must not let them regroup," said Ragnar determinedly as he sprinted deeper into the sewer. Markus tried to follow him but he soon realized the heavy weapons which he'd insisted on carrying were holding him back.

Suddenly, an Ork Nob came out of nowhere and knocked down Markus with a savage elbow. Before the Devastator could react, it had him pinned down with brutal force and pointed a pistol at him. Fortunately, someone else had beaten him to the point of pulling the trigger. The Greenskin fell down, dead. Markus got up, seeing that someone was none other than the PDF.

"Uhm… Thanks," he mumbled.

"You are welcome."

Two more Orks appeared, imbued with rage and fury. Capt. Hook jumped to the fray. He killed one of the aliens with his hook and with the other hand, he pointed the pistol at his opponent, aiming for a head shot.

BANG!

To Markus's horror, it detonated, for real, leaving a headless body collapsed onto the ground.

"More Orks coming," yelled the pimple faced man, pointing at the direction of which, a horde of Orks holding war axe was charging forward. Markus immediately grabbed his flamethrower while the fat man took his heavy bolter machine gun on the ground.

WOW!

To his surprise, the fat man was holding the 500 pounds weapon with ease, as if it was no heavier than a basket ball. Markus didn't expect any non-bio-engineered normal human being could ever have done that, but he was sure glad to have him on his side. The two men with heavy weapons began firing at the horde, taking down Orks after Orks. A green-skinned, hit twice, smashed back into the wall and slid down, dead.

"WAAAAAGH!" A throaty war-cry was accompanied by the incoming of a dozen more aliens from different directions.

"What do we do now?" yelled the old man. "I might be old, but I don't' want to die today."

"Westokis adlaiw inapois doamau," said the hip-hop dude.

Markus lowered his brow. "Are you sure? That's dangerous."

"Jingo hykaso oskanu fugeth."

And without another word, he sprinted into the Ork pack. Markus' mouth dropped open as he couldn't believe in his eyes what he was seeing. The man was dancing through the enemy, skillfully avoiding everything they threw at. Being to occupied trying to kill the dancer, the Orks didn't realize they were … cutting down themselves faster than one could say _The Emperor protects_.

Markus smirked. He knew it was going to be alright. He knew that they could win now. Because the army he recruited was anything but ordinary.

"REPENT ! FOR TOMORROW YOU WILL DIE!"

Meanwhile, Ragnar was having a wonderful time he ran across the sewer, slicing any Ork not smart enough to get out of the way. It wasn't too tough, like playing a game on easy mode, until…. He confronted the he-who-lead-the-Orks.

"Agh! Ya rotten hummies iz so persistent," said the Warboss.

"Rotten ?" Ragnar taunted. "Oh yeah! And you Orks smell like stinky cheese put between an Ogryn's toes for a month mixed with Nurgle's drop. But a thousand times worse. Besides, I think you misbegotten beings look fat in green. Purple Orks are better."

"Ya coming for me, ya coming to ya death! I'll put ya XXX in a YYY!"

Ragnar was taken back by what he heard. "You are crazy, Ork. Everyone in this universe know that a man's XXX is too big to be put inside a YYY even if you enlarge it to its maximum. Unless you are putting it Tau size."

_WAAAGH!_ Howling exubrantly, the Ork charged forward, swinging his massive claws at Ragnar. The Dark Angel leaped back and dodged it, barely. Judging from the three nasty scratches on his thick armor, Ragnar knew a moment too late from that could have turned him into squig food. This fight was going to be harder than he thought.

Back to Markus and the militias. The battle was over. The area in front of them was littered with aliens dead. The Orks horde had been reduced to a single Slugga. He looked confused and Markus took him down with one shot from a pistol bolt. Victory had come at last.

"We…we did it!" said the old man, still couldn't believe.

"Yeaah! We sure show them," said the fat man happily.

"Huray, no more green skinned," said the young girl, jumping up and down elatedly.

Markus glanced warily. Between him, Ragnar and the militias, they had taken out thirty Greenkins including two Nobz without a single lost. At least that was what he saw.

Suddenly, the PDF man fell prone to the ground. At first, Markus thought he was just tired, but as soon as he saw blood leaking from his chest, Markus knew something was wrong. Horribly wrong. Apparently, the man had taken a shrapnel during the bloody fight.

"Hey!" yelled Markus. "Is there anybody who knows medic?"

"I do," said the pimple man.

"Really?"

"Of course, I'm a doctor."

"Why didn't you say anything like that before?"

"You never asked."

FOR THE EMPEROR! The war-cry cut through the air between them. Markus realized the battle wasn't over, not just yet. And his brother was in the thick of it.

"Alright, stay here. I'm going after my brother," he said.

"Stay safe, OK?" said Capt. Hook.

"Please be careful, mister," said the little girl.

"Glaks Klnia Dajuni," said the hip-hop dude.

"The Emperor protects," said the old man.

"You too," Markus replied.

Meanwhile,…

"DIE! DIE! DIE!"

The Warboss yelled while swinging his claws repeatedly at Ragnar who was narrowly parrying them. At the seventeenth blow or so, his chainsword was smashed to pieces, making him totally vulnerable.

"Hah, ya end is now, hummie," said the Warboss. Using his jump pack, he leapt forward like a swooping predatory bird. His pattern was obvious, so Ragnar evaded it effortlessly.

Markus arrived just in time…to get crushed, literally. Lotzo the Warboss accidentally fell right on him.

Ragnar clapped his forehead in disappointment.

_**Man, you are such a noob.**_

Snatching both Astartes in his massive hand, the Warboss smashed them both bluntly into the wall. Not even a Space Marine could withstand such force, and the two went limped.

"Any last word, hummie?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ragnar barked. "Go and die."

"To Chapter Master," Markus began. "We have failed you and dishonored the Chapter. Let our death be our ultimate redemption. May the Emperor protect. And, oh, it was I who stole your biscuits from your stock. They were delicious."

"I know it was you," said Ragnar accusingly.

"Time to be unmade, Space Merines," said Lotzo, raising his Powa Klaw.

"One more, please," said Markus hurriedly. "To my xeno pet, food is on the third shelf to the right in the kitchen. By the way, since I'm gone now, stop biting people's shoes, OK?"

"PLEASE!" yelled Ragnar. "In the name of the Emperor and whatever you Orks are worshipping, just KILL us already! What this fool is telling makes me wanna join the Forces of Chaos. It's heresy!"

Lotzo raised his claws, preparing for the final blow. The two Dark Angels watched in silence, waiting for their inevitable demise.

BANG! Came the unmistakable sound of a pistol bolt fire. The Ork turned around, facing the shooter in amazement. It was none other than the little girl.

That moment, Ragnar noticed there was something peculiar in the air. Despite being in a sewer, that smell is highly uncommon. It was promethium. Lotzo's jet-pack was leaking promethium.

"Oh damm," said the Warboss.

KABOOOOM! The prometheum ignited, sending Lotzo into the ceiling before detonated, showering blood all over the two Space Marine. They looked at each other, half amused, half amazed. Ragnar couldn't help laughing, then Markus did the same.

The remnants of the Orks, upon the death of their Warboss, lost all strength and will to fight. The militias rallied them and finally broke them down.

"Good work there, kid," said Ragnar. "You see, you can do anything you put yourself into it."

"And what about Captain Hook. It's he alright?" asked Markus.

"Doctor said he'll live to fight another day," replied the little girl. "Is that good?"

"Yeah, very."

Captain Harkmen and the 5th Company finally arrived, only to find out that the battle was over. The whole scene was covered in green corpses and red blood. Victory had been won, thanks to the ever-vigilant Sergeant Ragnar, the mighty Devastator Markus and what seemed to be good for nothing militias. Everyone had played their part in the process to achieve the ultimate success for the Imperium. They will never be forgotten by the people of Masoche, or the Dark Angel Space Marine Chapter. It was a glorious day for the Emperor.


End file.
